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THE DEAD AND GONE
A town where the snow is black,
bringing coldness and fear.
Old remnants of tears held back,
and times too hard to bear.
Woven from black sheets of rain,
fear covers in disarray.
Anguished and frozen with pain,
dark petals fall in dismay.
Hell has come to Oasis,
The Dead and gone at its side.
Now hidden behind faces
that are well-known far and wide.
Who will fall prey to The Dead?
I hope it is not me.
I’m hiding under my bed.
I’m afraid as I can be.
THE DEAD GAME
Love ya!
Jane
Regis
is no place to be,
unless I have,
my security blanket with me.
Creepy to the max.
I always looked forward to the sunny January thaw rather than get down and dark and dirty like your poem.
Good for horror story freaks… I think?
Ron
Connie